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Updated: May 31, 2025
I received from Ringo a ticket showing that my cotton was sold at nine and three-eighths cents, but I could never get a settlement. He kept putting me off by saying that the bill of lading had not come. Those bales averaged over four hundred pounds. I did not owe him over twenty-five dollars.
"And I'm here," John Ringo added in the same even voice. "She writes me regularly. Thinks I'm doing fine!" He did not bring up the subject again; it was as if he had opened a curtain a little way and let it fall at once; but the deputy, who came from good people himself, had been able to see much during that brief glimpse into the outlaw's hidden life.
One after another those who were "short" in other places had drifted before the winds of public opinion to gather in this eastern end of Cochise County where two whose qualities of deadliness surpassed those of all the rest were recognized, because of that superior ability at killing, as the big "He Wolves." These two were Curly Bill and John Ringo.
John Ringo had been looking for further trouble, and his forces were so well disposed that the invaders had their choice between surrender and being massacred. They yielded to necessity like wise men and gave over their arms to their captors, who forthwith took them to the nearest saloon and bought them many drinks.
He stepped down from the sidewalk's edge into the roadway, crossed it, and came to a halt within a few feet of his enemies. Addressing Wyatt Earp by name so goes the story "This sort of thing," John Ringo said, "has been going on for a long time now. Pretty soon there's bound to be a big killing if it keeps up. Now I've got a proposition.
And so gradually it became known among his fellows that their leader held a grievance against the sheriff, that he was biding his opportunity to play even with Johnny Behan for that blundering piece of thoughtlessness. John Ringo was the biggest man among them all, the brains of the whole crowd; they wanted to see in what manner he would settle the score.
Some of their wifes cooks for white people and they eat all they make up soon as they get paid. Only way they live." Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor Person interviewed: Ervin E. Smith 811 Ringo Street, Little Rock, Arkansas Age: 84 "I have been in this state for forty-nine years. I will be here fifty years on the fifteenth of December.
And having seen those tangled threads he was able to understand certain matters all the better when the end came. Now while Deputy Sheriff Breckenbridge and John Ringo were riding toward Tombstone things were brewing in that wild young mining camp. The law-and-order party was preparing to make a clean-up of the desperadoes.
The old-timers are unanimous in saying that had John Ringo been alive that battle wherein the leaders of the Earp faction slew several of the biggest desperadoes would never have taken place as it did.
A man of parts, and he looked it; they all say that. This was John Ringo. He had fought in one of those numerous cattle wars which raged throughout western Texas during the seventies. Before that period a certain California city had known him as the reckless son of a decent family.
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